


Black hole

by idvko



Series: Infinite [2]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Biology, Angst, Consensual, M/M, Mention of wataei but not actually. Explored, Space AU, Vaginal Sex, headcanon heavy, keito has an alien vag idk how else to tag it, the keichi is unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 22:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20347429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idvko/pseuds/idvko
Summary: Keito can't seem to shake the crush he has on possibly the worst person in the universe. Each time he comes to visit — without notice and without consideration of anyone else's situation — Keito is only reminded of this fact.He's starting to think he doesn't care anymore.





	Black hole

**Author's Note:**

> This is another instalment of //wiggles my fingers// the space au.
> 
> It's been sitting in my drafts since about March, since I started writing it at around the same time as the last one. I was nervous to post this one though, and it went through a lot of edits. Angst and nsfw aren't exactly my forte and I went for both at once lol.

Keito had already settled into bed, blinds shut and lights off — the only source of light was the cube-shaped lamp on the desk at his bedside, filling the room with a soft, pulsing blue glow.

He had been slowly drifting in and out of sleep for an hour (at least), restless tossing and turning as his mind processed the events of the day. Eichi’s sudden appearance had thrown him violently off of his mundane routine of odd repair jobs, attempting to write, watching aimless drama programs and... forgetting about Eichi, if he was being perfectly honest with himself.

He had known at the appearance of that gaudy gold spaceship that his entire week was going to be a complete write-off between hosting his unannounced guest and between shifting his work priorities. Between ignoring the pain in his chest that only ever seemed to rear its ugly head whenever Eichi came around and plagued him for months after he left. However much these infrequent and unforeseeable visits messed up his schedule, he supposed at least he knew what to expect. What would come with it.

What he _hadn’t_ expected was Eichi’s new _accessory_ — if Keito had to come up with a word to describe him.

Flashy and loud and annoying as all hell, he had to admit that Hibikiga was everything Eichi seemed to be inexplicably drawn to. Perhaps that was why he hated him so much, even before he’d decided to open his big mouth.

He wondered who he was. Why he was with Eichi. 

What _was_ he to Eichi anyway?

By now, the thoughts had started to blur together, and his eyelids had started to droop. His body had been physically exhausted for hours now, and it was a relief that his mind was starting to catch up. The images in his head were slowing, starting to disconnect, and he couldn’t quite remember what he’d just been thinking about...

Something felt _off._

He started suddenly, jolting awake and sitting straight up in bed. Eichi also flinched when Keito’s face nearly collided with his own. A hand flew to his mouth to muffle a startled gasp, blue eyes wide.

Keito already found himself automatically forming the words to reprimand him for very nearly _scaring the living daylights out of him_ before stopping dead, gaping dumbly for a moment as his half-conscious mind raced to catch up.

_Eichi?_

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded frantically when he’d remembered how to speak, instinctively backing into the headboard and trying to put more space between them. When had he come in? How long had he been there? Why hadn’t he woken him up?

Eichi recovered much more calmly than he did, tipped his head to the side from where he sat at the edge of the bed and regarding him with a small amused smile. He was wearing one of the robes Keito had lent him after he’d undergone maintenance, the soft cream fabric almost blending in with his pale skin in the dim light. His prosthetic arm glinted as he traced arbitrary shapes into the bed covers. 

“Do I need a reason?” He asked, eyes sparkling teasingly in the light of the lamp. Keito let out an exasperated sigh, annoyance kicking in now that it was obvious his intruder meant him no harm.

“Don’t answer my question with a question. What do you want?” He paused a moment before continuing sharply. “If your limbs are hurting you, there’s no use complaining to me about it.”

“Mm,” he murmured, shaking his head in refutation. “My body is feeling fantastic, actually. Your work is outstanding, as usual.”

Keito snorted. He hated how such a simple compliment made warmth fill his chest, like a flower unfurling in the sun. How pathetic, that such an easy thing could put him in such a state, could make him feel so disgustingly soft and fond. He looked away, unwilling to let Eichi somehow see it in his face.

“So tell me why you’re here then.” He said gruffly. “I don’t have time to play guessing games all night.”

The mattress creaked as Eichi’s weight shifted, and when Keito glanced back at him, he had pulled himself up onto the bed fully, legs folded beneath him and leaning forward on his hands. Keito tried not to notice that the robe was starting to slip off of one of his shoulders.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, surprisingly serious. “It’s been a long time.”

Keito found himself frozen and unable to look away as Eichi inched closer on his hands and knees. His childhood friend’s eyes had locked him in a sharp, calculating stare that seemed to see right through his skin to his insides. Keito’s mouth had suddenly seemed to dry up, and he almost coughed out the next words.

_“‘See me’?”_

Eichi nodded, sitting up on his knees to lean over him, grasping the headboard and caging Keito between his arms. His robe hung from his body loosely and Keito caught a flash of a nipple as he leaned in closer, clearly with no regard to what he looked like. Keito could hardly breathe. The overpowering floral scent coming off of Eichi’s body in waves — which he recognized as the facility’s standard soap — was second only to the choking sensation in his own throat, the squeezing in his chest that made it feel as though his heart might be giving out.

“I’ve dreamt of you,” Eichi continued, spurred on by Keito’s dumbfounded exclamation. His eyes were narrowed and unreadable. “It’s been lonely out there, you know.”

This wasn’t real, Keito decided as if from a distance, his brain working steadily in the background even as his senses were being assaulted. It was a dream. He’d had dreams like this before, that play out like one of those stupid sappy romance dramas that came on in the background at the shop sometimes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined Eichi in his bed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined touching him, kissing him, making love to him. He could just go along like he always did, enjoy it while he could before waking up alone in a cold sweat and having to slip a hand down his pants to jerk himself off just so he could get on with his day.

“Keito,” Eichi said, and he was startled from his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how much his mind had wandered, how much time had passed without him saying anything. Eichi lowered one of his arms from the headboard to stroke his cheek gently and Keito instinctively leaned into it.

He wanted this. If this really was a dream, then he wanted this.

Eichi’s eyes flashed unnaturally, and Keito felt a shiver race up his spine as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting on his lips. “We could have this again, you know.”

Something seemed to snap in Keito’s chest . It was only a figurative pain, but it hurt all the same. He shoved Eichi off of him, breathing hard — half from shock and half from an undeniable arousal that was luckily still hidden under the covers. Eichi was lying on his side where Keito had thrown him down, curling into the bedcovers and laughing maniacally in a voice that wasn’t quite his.

“You enjoying yourself, Hibikiga?” Keito spat, kicking a foot into ‘Eichi’s’ stomach to push him away and increase the distance between them. ‘Eichi’s’ eyes flashed violet for a moment, as if they were chrome, caught in a different light before switching back to blue.

“I am, thank you for asking~” Wataru purred, leaning back to avoid another swipe from Keito and pulling himself back up onto his knees. “You’re a lot of fun, Hassumi.”

Wataru tilted his head again, considering him. The smile vanished suddenly as his eyes bored into him, as if he’d momentarily forgotten how to construct an expression. It was an unnerving, inhuman face, and it made Keito’s skin crawl. “What gave me away? I thought it was getting really good.”

Keito growled angrily, shrinking back from him into the headboard and only now realizing that he was defenceless. His staff was across the room and the most he had within reach was a lamp that he would really rather not shatter over Wataru’s stupid head.

“You thought you could pass as Eichi?” Keito scoffed, trying to sound tougher than he felt. “Where is he?”

“Hmm mm~ He’s sleeping right now. The maintenance tired him out a lot, you know?” Wataru supplied dismissively. His expression returned, brightening as he went back to his desired topic of conversation. “I convinced you for a bit though, right?” Wataru asked sweetly, the smile returning to his lips as he clasped his hands. Keito hated how very ‘Eichi-like’ the gesture was. He hated thinking about how much time they must have spent together for him to pick it up.

Keito didn’t answer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lie. But he didn’t want to admit that he _had_ been convinced, even a little bit. Being convinced by a dream was just as bad as being convinced by a fake, and it sickened him how easily he had fallen for it.

“I’m trying to be a better actor, you know,” Wataru continued without prompting, dropping his hands and considering Keito carefully. “Despite being considered near omnipotent, my abilities are actually best suited for being a servant, don’t you think? Being able to change shape to best suit the situation. Being able to become what someone most desires. It’s an interesting role reversal, isn’t it? I’m having fun trying out all sorts of different roles.”

He hummed thoughtfully as Keito processed all of this.

“It was the last part right?” he asked, his gaze boring into Keito’s. “I only knew that you and Eichi had grown up together, so I must have made some incorrect assumptions, hmm? Whoops~”

“Why did you come here?” Keito asked again slowly, enunciating each word clearly and trying to inject as much venom into each syllable as possible.

Wataru’s smile didn’t falter. “I just wanted to prank you, and it seems I did — at least a little. Everything that happens now is up to you.”

That last statement fell from Wataru’s lips like a ton of bricks, the insinuation weighing heavily on Keito’s chest. He felt sick. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked in a low voice before he could stop himself. He regretted asking it immediately, seeing the way Wataru’s eyes lit up.

Wataru leaned forward on his hands and knees again. His grin had a near-feral twist to it. “You were going to let me, weren’t you? Before I messed up, you would have let me kiss you, right?”

Keito looked away — down at the clenched fist at his side — face burning with shame. He hated that he was right. He hated that Wataru had caught him when he was so weak and vulnerable and desperate, but mostly he hated himself that he had let himself get lulled into such a state. That he had imagined, even in the deepest darkest part of his consciousness that it might have been real. That he _wanted_ it to be real.

Eichi’s — Wataru’s — hand was on his knee, caressing his leg through the blankets. He wanted to shove him away again, but his body refused to move. His body felt numb and he could hardly feel it when Wataru crawled closer, straddling him easily and looking down at him curiously.

“I can continue if you want,” he offered. “I can do whatever you want. I can _be_ whatever you want.”

He could feel the rational part of himself shut down. What was the point in pretending he was better than he actually was? He knew the truth. He knew that he wanted this. He knew he would enjoy it. It didn’t need to be real, and it didn’t need to mean anything. What was the difference whether it was real or a fake?

“Why?” he surprised himself by asking.

His blood ran cold when Wataru’s — Eichi’s — eyes blinked widely, seemingly confused. 

“I’m curious,” he answered simply.

Keito felt his heart sink, although he wasn’t exactly sure why.

Of course. 

Of course there was no greater reason. Of course there was nothing that made him special. He would always be a stepping stone it seemed, to Eichi and now to Eichi’s newest plaything. He wasn’t even sure if he minded anymore. 

As much as he tried to deny it to himself, he knew that Eichi and Wataru were sleeping with each other. He knew Wataru must have been pleasuring him in ways he could only imagine. When he thought about the fact that Wataru was probably just using him as practice to be able to please Eichi even more, he supposed it hurt less.

Or maybe it was just that he couldn’t feel it anymore. 

He felt a cold numbness spreading through his chest, a familiar nausea stirring his stomach. 

The image in his mind of Eichi writhing and moaning desperately beneath Wataru should have made him want to gag, but instead he accepted it with a sense of apathetic distance.

He felt disgusting. 

He felt disgusting, but he wanted more of it. He wanted it to fill him, consume him — if it was the closest he was going to get to the real thing then so be it.

So be it.

When he felt Eichi’s — Wataru’s — breath on his face, he automatically leaned into it, tilting his head and parting his lips to welcome him inside. Wataru kissed him sweetly, passionately, deeply, wrapping his arms around his neck and driving him firmly into the headboard as he pressed their bodies together. His mouth was hot — almost unbearably so — and surprisingly soft. He sucked and worried at his lips, making them tingle and ache pleasantly, making him gasp softly when their mouths finally separated for hurried breaths before diving into each other again.

He was rougher than the Eichi that visited him in his dreams — but then, he supposed he actually knew how Eichi kissed. Not like Keito, who had nothing but snippets of romance novels and wild nighttime fantasies to fuel him. Wataru’s — Eichi’s? — chest was pressed against his, and he could feel his own heart rattling in his chest. He would have been surprised if Wataru didn’t feel it as well, but he gave no indication of it as he hummed pleasantly and sucked at Keito’s tongue. There was a hand buried in his hair at the back of his head holding him in place, and a knee inching closer to his crotch.

He let out an undignified gasp as it rubbed against him, setting his lower regions alight with awakened desire. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard and trying to control himself, however much his hips ached to press back into it.

“Keito,” a sweet and familiar voice said near his ear, and he shivered. “It’s not proper of you to enjoy yourself without offering anything in return.” He giggled softly to himself. “Well, it’s not as if I mind. It’s your first time, isn’t it? I’ll try to be gentle.”

A cold hand slid up his pyjamas, tracing his flat stomach and working up to his chest. He let out a hiss through his teeth as Wataru ran a sharp edged, metallic finger over his nipple. He rubbed it firmly, eventually coaxing a soft sigh from Keito’s lips, hardly audible at all as he struggled to restrain himself. He gave a curious hum at Keito’s reaction, taking this as an invitation to slowly twist his nipple, and Keito’s eyes flew open as he let out an audible yelp of pain and surprise.

“Hibikiga!”

Wataru let go, rubbing the victimized nub slowly in apology. He sounded slightly reproachful when he spoke.

“Don’t speak my name like that, Hassumi,” he said with a surprisingly serious tone to his voice. His eyes were unreadable. “We are delivering your fantasy, are we not? If this dream is our performance and this bed is our stage, then the actors must commit to their roles.”

Keito glared up at him, if only because he was frustrated at himself for losing composure. He let out a shaking breath, recollecting his thoughts. It was he who had asked for this, even if it hadn’t been in so many words. He had already given up his dignity, so he may as well continue playing into the fantasy so that he could at least get some kind of satisfaction out of it.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. Wataru’s — Eichi’s — expression relaxed as he leaned in for another kiss — this one slower, softer.

“I want to hear you say it,” Wataru said as they separated. “I want to know how serious you are.”

Keito regarded him wordlessly for a moment. What did he truly get out of this? Was this all just an elaborate game to him? Was this all just so he could go back to Eichi so they could laugh about it together behind his back?

_I don’t care._ He was surprised as the thought crossed his mind, louder and firmer than the others that clamoured inside his head. _I don’t care._

He was already too far gone, he realized. His chest felt like a black hole. Empty. Cold.

_I don’t care._

“Eichi,” he said, looking into Wataru’s — Eichi’s — eyes. The eyes he had such a hard time looking away from when they spoke and the eyes that haunted him after he left. The eyes that made him feel like everything and nothing at a single glance, that even now washed out this room in blue light from the lamp that he had gotten because… because it reminded him of those eyes.

Wataru smiled, his gaze never leaving Keito’s as that hand under his shirt slowly travelled back down and further still, gently and slowly teasing him through his sleepwear. Keito sighed breathily, still not quite prepared for the way his body reacted to his touch — as if his genitals were sparking and aching, painfully unsatisfied. He hesitantly shifted his hips, directing Wataru’s touch and slowly rubbing back against his fingers. He hated the fact he saw ‘Eichi’s’ blue eyes light up in excitement, but he loved the way those fingers moved more firmly against him, pressing and prodding the areas around his entrance — teasing him and making him feel hot and restless.

Wataru moved faster than Keito was prepared for — it seemed he was only just starting to get accustomed to the feeling of being touched through his clothes when suddenly those razor-edged fingers were slipping beneath his undergarments and stopping centimeters from his aching, throbbing genitals. Wataru’s other hand came up to cup Keito’s cheek as the green haired boy gasped breathlessly at his sudden change in tactics, at the touch of those cold metallic digits unbearably close to his entrance. His body was shaking with anticipation, but Wataru had cruelly stopped.

“Again,” the shapeshifter prompted gently.

“Eichi,” Keito repeated in a shaky breath, leaning into the hand against his face and closing his eyes again, the fire in his body feeling as if it were about to consume him. He felt Wataru prod the bony nub at his entrance experimentally and Keito let out an unrestrained moan, reaching up to wrap his arms around Wataru and bury his face into the crook of his neck, practically wheezing with pleasure. Wataru could feel what could have been delicate tendrils starting to curl around his finger, drawing it closer and begging him to continue.

“I have never asked before,” Wataru asked quietly, breaking character for a moment. “But I am a creature who is learning to serve, so I want to ask. What would you like to hear _me_ say?”

He ran a finger gently over that sensitive nub again and the tendrils tightened their grip as Keito cried out again. He refused to remove his face from Wataru’s neck, perhaps trying to muffle himself as whimpers continued to spill from his throat.

“Shall I tell you that I love you? That I want to be with you?” Wataru continued as Keito fought to regain his breath. “What is it the Eichi of your dreams says to you?”

Keito gasped for another few moments, his chest heaving as he slowly leaned back and weakly opened his eyes, blinking back tears.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “I am… not worth his time…”

Wataru’s eyes widened slightly at Keito’s answer, and he looked as though he were waiting for some elaboration. Searching for some kind of explanation in Keito’s glassy gaze. But Keito’s eyelids had fluttered closed once more, revealing nothing. Wataru smiled.

“Interesting,” he said, half to himself. “You’re really not that boring after all, it seems.”

Keito wondered vaguely what he meant by that comment, but was suddenly distracted when Wataru left his clit alone to instead trace his finger around the hardened edges of his entrance. The tendrils latched on tighter than ever, pulling it closer. Wataru chuckled to himself in amusement and pulled away gently. The tendrils fell away obediently as he tugged himself out of reach.

“Well, if you do not want to hear me praise or even acknowledge you, then that’s fine. This is a performance of your making, after all.” Wataru said as he pulled off the rest of the blankets and tugged Keito’s sleepwear and undergarments away, exposing him with a violent shiver and an indignant yelp of protest.

Wataru chuckled. “I wanted to try serving you just once, but even now it seems that the one stubbornly offering himself up is you, Hassumi. Now then...”

His voice shifted as he spoke, taking on Eichi’s soft-spoken inflection once more. He pulled Keito up into a sitting position, stroking his face gently as he positioned himself between Keito’s thighs. He heard the green-haired boy inhale sharply as his human cock prodded his entrance. The tendrils were active again, clinging to his tip as he lined himself up. Wataru could tell now that they were secreting a clear fluid, lubricating him as he drew closer.

Wataru gripped Keito's hips firmly with one hand, using the other to guide his cock inside, easing himself in bit by bit. Keito was quiet, clearly making an effort not to make any noise even though it must have felt strange at the very least. At last, the head of his cock disappeared inside Keito's body, and Wataru allowed him a moment to recover, admiring the way Keito's ridged entrance was visibly clamping around him, the tiny tendrils he'd felt before sliding up and around his shaft, gripping onto him stubbornly. 

After allowing a few moments of reprieve, Wataru surged inward without warning, past the rough-edged entrance and into tight wet darkness. Keito cried out and clung to Wataru desperately, nails digging into soft human skin. Tears leaked from his eyes — it was painful. It was painful, but it still set his insides aflame in a way that filled him with a tingling, burning pleasantness. He felt Wataru try to pull back out, and let out a high pitched whimper and wrapped his legs around his middle, keeping him from leaving. The tendrils now wrapped firmly around the base of his dick were doing the same, driving him ever deeper.

Wataru let out a breathy laugh as he realized this, adjusting his strategy and going along with what Keito’s body was clearly asking for. He thrusted back in with a groan, Keito’s body clamping tighter around him. Keito let out a desperate whine in his throat, his rational thought all but vanished. Wataru — Eichi — was large and uncomfortable inside him, filling him up in a way that made it feel like he was being stretched and forcibly re-formed, burning at his entrance and all through his insides. But it felt _good_, and he wanted more of it. His thighs were trembling and he couldn’t help but rut his hips forward, trying to urge Wataru deeper. He wanted it further inside, rearranging him. He called out Eichi’s name with each movement, believing more and more through his clouded, lust-filled mind that it might actually be his childhood friend that was ramming into him with reckless abandon, chasing release and using his body as a tool to find it. As Wataru continued to thrust into him, he deliriously wondered if perhaps being ravaged by Eichi’s cock would somehow make him…

Wataru’s rhythm was starting to falter and become erratic, and his breaths had deepened to gasps. With saliva dripping down his chin as he moaned in Eichi’s voice, he reached down to stroke Keito’s clit again.

“Eichi…!” Keito cried out, coming with an intensity he had never reached by himself, even in the midst of his most desperate nights. Fluid leaked from his entrance to coat their stomachs in viscous goo as his body shook and trembled. The tendrils that had constricted Wataru’s cock now retreated and lay limp along the edge of his entrance, resembling some sort of wilted flower. Wataru thrusted into him desperately, continuing even as convulsions finally wracked his own body and Keito felt a hot fluid pumping into him, filling him with a vaguely unpleasant warmth. When Wataru finally pulled out with a sigh, his cock was coated in silver, and Keito could feel it dripping out from his entrance as it overflowed onto the sheets.

Keito fell back into the covers, breathing hard. He felt gross — considering the mixture of cum painting his body and the sensation of silver fluid filling him up and leaking out of him. Considering the cold sweat on his skin and the residual burning and aching in his genitals and the tingling of his lips where Wataru had kissed him raw.

But now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade from his veins and he was starting to come down from his lusty high and back into clear-headedness, he felt sick as well. Filthy. Disgraceful.

That he had fallen so low to let this meaningless act of disgusting primitive instinct take over his mind made him burn with shame. He hated himself. Scum like him wasn’t worthy of anyone’s attention — let alone Eichi’s — and yet…

Wasn't this what he deserved? This was the kind of sick, depraved act that suited someone like him. This was all he could hope to attain, from where he belonged at the feet of his ‘Emperor’. He deserved a sham as opposed to the real thing. He deserved to cry desperately over a dream that he had no right to experience.

_This_ was what he deserved.

Wataru watched as Keito slowly faded into exhausted sleep before getting to his feet and stretching leisurely. He disappeared into Keito’s bathroom to look for something to clean them up with, reappearing with a towel and yawning a bit as he made his way back over to the unconscious man. He worked on Keito first, mopping up the mess on his stomach and gently clearing away the last dribbles of cum from his entrance. Wataru regarded his sleeping face for a moment. The air seemed to shimmer around him as he shifted back into his preferred human form, locks of silver and blue hair falling around his face as he studied Keito curiously.

Eichi had broken this poor boy just as surely as he had broken his enemies in the war. It seemed that being close to him did not always necessarily guarantee protection from his reckless behaviour. In fact, Wataru was starting to wonder if being closer to the epicentre of destruction only allowed him to reach you faster. Inflict more damage. 

Even still, there was a part of Keito that clearly and desperately wanted to stay distant, that could only ever admire the object of his infatuation from where he lay on the dirty ground at his feet. Stubbornly in love with the idea of a man even while he stood before him in flesh and blood.

Wataru smiled vaguely at the thought, humming softly to himself as he threw the rags into the laundry chute, and glancing over his shoulder once as he left. He and Keito were not so different after all, it seemed. 

However unlike Keito, he wasn’t afraid to be utterly destroyed from the inside. If that was what Eichi most desired of him.


End file.
